The Mother
by Elatinde
Summary: A one-shot on post-Arathorn's death. Contains emotional and physical angst, and adorable baby Aragorn! November Teitho (fear) winner due to being the only entry. LOL. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE R&R!


A/N: PLEASE forgive me for not uploading the two final chapters of "For The Sake of An Old Friend". I am being showered by my lessons. I wrote this nearly a month ago for teitho contest, and it won cause it had no opponents! LOL

Now enjoy, I promise I will complete the stories ASAP.

A faint sound of a cry rose up into the air. It pierced the deadly silence of the forest.

The sound was a high-pitched one, as it belonged to a child. A small little boy, aged no more than two or three, was laying widespread on a motionless figure. He was deathly pale, for all around him had united to inject any type of horrible feeling inside him. He was very young to feel and understand the horrifying side of the world, but he could tell that his interpretation of his surroundings was anything but good.

Tears paced on his blushed cheeks as he tried to wake the figure by slapping its face with frozen, small hands. His dark black hair was tickling the figure's face, but it moved none by the distraction.

"Ma…ma…" he sobbed with frustration. "Pleass…open 'or ayss…don' 'eave ee 'lon…"

He laid his head down on his mother's chest. He could hear the faint breaths and heartbeats of his ma. Fearing that he might not feel it no more, he sank into his mother's chest more than before, until a sudden _crash_ followed by a _shoof_ made him jump and look around with confusion and horror. His heart was begging to be free of his ribcage, so that it could run away and reclaim its peace. He could feel the sweats running down his forehead towards his cheeks, accompanying his tears.

The little child had never felt this much horror and emptiness before. Although his short-time life had been no easy and peaceful one – for he had to be on moving with his mother and other people of his tribe all the time, but this time was completely different. This time he had no one around to fight for his safety. He did not have his mother's arms and voice, cradling him and singing to him so that he was free from the cold hands of fear. He was not in where he could call home, so that he could feel some sort of wall, whether invisible, visible, strong or not strong was standing to keep him safe and unharmed. He had nothing. He was the only company to himself. The only company to ensure his safety from the dark, creepy and terrifying sight around.

The sight around…it gave his little body more chills and burned his look into the flames of fear. Darkness was swallowing his peace. It was making the trees, so loved by him, looking horrible and creepy. The slight breeze which was joyful to any living being, was now stopping any heartbeat by waking the leaves, making them groan in the deadly night. The plaited bushes were brutally attacking the inner safe of the life flow, trying to free fear of it by the key of possible attack of the wild, merciless beings. Colors, signs of beauty, were captured by the dark, leaving a void behind. The void was taken over by the dark, its forces of horrible feelings crashing every soul while marching.

The little, innocent being, laid his head on his mother's chest once more. Tightening his grasp of his mother's dress, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to escape from the severe fear that had captured him ruthlessly by remembering any of his good, hopeful memories. Though he had spent longer times within a quite stable peace, this shortly born fear was enough to destroy a lifetime of happiness and joy.

All of a sudden, a voice pierced the deadly, creepy silence around.

He rose his head again. At first, he thought it was one of those sudden-rising voices, but to his dismay, it was not. The voice was not only dying, but also it was creeping closer and closer, making the innocent being's breath short. He slipped away from his mother, sitting on the cold ground. He was too afraid…even the sound of crashing leaves underneath him was grasping his heart very, very tightly. He covered his chest with his little, shaking arms to calm his breath so as not to draw the owner of voice to himself.

To his bad luck, he was unsuccessful. The voices grew nearer and nearer.

"Orcs!" his brain cried silently. It was a horrible thing for a child to be familiar to such foul creatures, but our poor little kid had made the days to night buried underneath the shadow of the terror caused by them. He had seen his father being ruthlessly slaughtered by them, and he obviously wanted not his mother or himself fall in to the grasp of those servants of evil.

"Not…?" his brain asked in a moment. The more the voices grew near, the less it seemed to belong to orcs. The child became calm, for he thought it might be their people searching for them. He returned to his mother, sinking into his chest once again, feeling relieved that his mother's spirit was still bounded to the earth.

"Iss like ma's name, and mi name" he thought, as the growing voices were gaining a form, sounding like "'lraen…'agorn…" Now his eyes could tell some shadows were coming close. Tightening his grasp of his mother's dress, he panted, became short of breath again. His eyes were examining his surroundings within the barriers of fear.

The voices could now be heard perfectly. A light and a very sudden "Over here!" alarmed the kid, making him shake his mother with his small hands and all his might.

"Pleass…ma…whee mus' go…mus' go…they take…weel bee aik da…geddup…ma…pleeeesszzz…" he said as tears wetted his little, frightened face.

Soon they were surrounded by hooded figures, who were carrying fire-lit cressets as well as weapons. He could barely tell what they were, but he could see something like pointed ears on the sides of their faces. He had a slight relief. They were not orcs. In fact, he had seen some of those among their people, and had found them friendly, for they treated their people very well.

He saw a man – no, he remembered his mother telling him they were elves because of the pointed ears – coming forward…towards him, actually. He drowned in his mother's body more and more, his eyes locked on the creature, his look trapped behind the barriers of fear.

The face finally became clear. It was indeed an elf. He had dark long hair, with a small crown surrounding the forehead. His kind-looking blue eyes were set upon the child. Their kindness suddenly turned into fear when they fell upon the pale, motionless woman on the ground.

He came closer to the shaking, sweating child. He sat on his knees to be as level as possible with the child.

"You shall be safe now, my son," he – for his deep voice – said calmly. "I was a friend of your father. My warriors and I shall not harm you."

The child's look was still locked on him. He slowly moved to change his position to become face-to-face with this so called "friend".

"You…were friends wi' da?" He asked with his childish, heart-melting voice.

The elf's eyes welled with tears, looking indeed like ocean. "Aye, my son. You are Arathorn's son. I have known you since you were born." His look fell upon the woman again.

The child was shaking less than before. His inside was not detecting any possible danger.

"Come, my child. Come to me." He said softly, opening his embrace. "Come to me, Aragorn. Trust us. Let us take you and your mama to a safe spot."

Aragorn, the little boy, hesitated. He was still distrustful.

"Wass your name?" he asked. "Are you a king? Like mi da being a cheeften to our people?"

The elf's eyes welled with tears for he could not bear this much innocence. "Aye, something like that. My name is Elrond, little one."

The child was still in doubt. Elrond…the calm face…it was quite familiar to him. But still in this condition…

"Aragorn, my dear son, please." Elrond begged. "Your mama needs to be taken to safety. You need it too. Please come to me. My warriors shall bring your mother with us. If you want to know where we are heading, we are heading to Rivendell, where I am a king. I have found your people. They are all there. One of them whom you might know is here."

"Yes, master Aragorn. He is good with us."

Yes! It was his father's servant! If he was safe, why could not they be safe?

He took wobbly steps towards Elrond. Once he could touch the child, he dragged him in to his arms and lifted him.

"Ma!" he cried, looking at the motionless woman.

"Worry not, my son…" he said, attempting to calm the kid. "We shall bring her too."

"Carry lady Gilraen on the stretcher. Fast, you shall all move! No safety is laying here!" Elrond commanded.

The elven lord had little Aragorn right in front of him, on the saddle. Gilraen, the wounded lady and Aragorn's mother, was on a stretcher at the back of a cart, pulled by horses. With the command of the elven lord, they began to move out, carrying the lady and the new chieftain of the Dunedain as far as possible from danger.

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"Ahrahgorn…Ahra..gohrn…son…"

"Hush, Gilraen. You shall not speak. Your boy is safe and unharmed."

She was still moaning. Elrond laid a hand on her forehead. Fever was still flaming. He wondered why none of his treatments had worked. She had obviously suffered a great loss of blood, and being constantly on the move had led her ill, but yet she should not be this much weak…after all the treatments…Elrond's heart sank. What if she…? Oh, Aragorn! He had had enough difficulties in his life! His father's death was pretty enough for him!

"No!" he screamed internally. "There is still hope! She is still with us!"

He stood up and strode towards the table holding the medical supplies. He mixed some herbs to kill her pain in a cup, and came back to her.

Elrond lifted Gilraen. "Drink this. It shall help." He whispered.

She swallowed nearly all the medicine. Her state was fearing Elrond. Her horrible paleness, alarming weakness, high fever and super slow speed of healing was horrifying Elrond so badly.

After the medicine took effect, she opened her eyes weakly, her look meeting Elrond's.

"I wish…to see…my son…"

"No, Gilraen. Your state will fear him to death. All you have to focus on is healing, so you can remain by his side to raise him for reign."

"El..Elrond…"She gasped for breath. "No one…is a better healer…than the…patient…I know…I know I…don't have much…time…"

"NO!" Elrond cried fearfully. "You shall keep on! You shall live! Cling to hope! For your son! For Arathorn! Your little one needs you! Gilraen, please!"

Gilraen smiled faintly, making Elrond's heart sink more. She was shaking more than what caused by fever, due to the shaking arm of Elrond, which was holding her head.

"If…I…fear him…then…you have to…pass my words to him…Tell him how much I am…sorry that…I am leaving him…" Elrond broke into tears. He did not want to believe his heart.

"Tell him…tell him he must…be…strong…he must live to…take our vengeance…reclaim…our…lands…Tell him…there's al…ways…hope…"she gasped for breath so hard. She could not breathe. Elrond put her down on the bed.

"Stop talking, for the sake of the Valar!" cried Elrond with tears in his eyes and fear in his heart.

Gilraen's breath became more and more shallow, despite Elrond's struggles to keep her alive. Her worsening state was injecting shots of terror in Elrond. The healer's heart was pacing horribly. He could not stand the fact that he was failing Gilraen…Aragorn…and Arathorn…his feelings were eating him from inside…to his horror, horrible thoughts of "what will happen next" was becoming more and more real. He was founding hard to stand it. He had seen dying patients and his fail so many times…but this one…he could not…

Soon all the thoughts became real.

Gilraen's eyes became fixed upon Elrond's, like she wanted to release her spirit to him so that he could keep it.

Elrond froze in fear. _No, no, no, no! Gilraen! No! Stay! Resist!_

Tears travelled down his face. _I failed my close friend._ He held Gilraen's cold, motionless body closer to him, and then cried with all his might. His amount of guilt could not be imagined or understood…

 _Arathorn…old friend…forgive me…I should have tried more…a lot more so that your son would have a guardian…but now…she is with you…_

 _Oh Aragorn! I am in your debt forever, penneth! Forgive me child, forgive me! I could not keep your ma alive! Your ma is gone! Like your daddy…oh little one…I fear for you…how am I going to tell you about this…how are you going to bear this burden? How are you going to live through all this hardness? This is enough to make a fully grown man surrender…let alone…_

Elrond seemed to be the unluckiest one ever…for he got a glimpse of a little being before it ran down the corridor, crying hard…

 _Noooooooooo…._

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Elrond rushed towards Aragorn's room. His heart was jumping out of his chest and his breath was short. He had all the horrible feelings at the same time…he did not know which to respond. His only wish for now was to find Aragorn safe and sound.

To his relief, the little boy was safe in his room. He was drowned in the pillows, crying so hard for what he had seen. Elrond wanted to choose a proper way to pass the sad news to the young one but all had vaporized in to the thin air as he had stood behind the door, eavesdropping and spying. The sight was painful. It reminded him of his sons when they mourned for their mother.

He went closer in order to calm the little one.

"Aragorn…"

"Tell me nothing! I know!" he cried miserably. "I know! Ma is dead, like da! She heart is no more moving! She no breath!"

The little boy sobbed more.

Elrond slowly surrounded the mourning child in his embrace, and stroked his dark hair. The child did not protested. He sank his little face in the elf lord's robes, and went on crying. Tears welled Elrond's eyes. The child was carrying a burden too heavy for his small shoulders.

 _A few weeks later…_

"Aragorn? My son?"

He turned his back. It was Elrond.

They were now in the garden of the elf lord's stronghold. It was beautiful, full of green trees and lovely birds.

"I shall have a word with you, penneth."

Aragorn's brows drew closer. "What?"

"Young one," chuckled Elrond slightly.

They started walking. The cooling breeze was stroking their faces. Elrond was holding his small hand in his own. He was looking at the child, examining his features.

" _Ai Valar, I remember Elendil's childhood. It is like he has reborn! This penneth is too much like him!_ " They reached a stone bench underneath an oak, and sat on it.

"Aragorn…"

"I know ma's gone. Are you gonna tell me where I go?"

Elrond was surprised with his sharpness.

"No, little one. I wanted to tell you that you will stay here. I swear I will care for you more than anyone…although I can never be as good as your da."

Aragorn smiled faintly. _I need not to be on go!_ He thought happily.

"But, I fear that the danger has not taken its hands off you…anyone who finds out your name and identity, will try to harm you."

Aragorn looked confused. _What does he mean?_

"I…I want to…give you another name…"

"What! You mean I am no Aragorn! Orcs are dead!"

"I know…you will get to know this soon. You will be Aragorn forever, but to your friends. To others, you will be known as Estel."

" _What?_ "

"Hope, little one. Hope. For you are now the only hope to bring peace to us."

"Peace? I think it is now here!"

"You will understand soon. And its time shall come."

Aragorn was even confused than before.

"So…Estel. If anyone I know not asked me my name, I will say Estel…but…" he paused. "I know no one here!"

"You will know soon, son. I shall show you. Let's start with my sons!"

" _Sons? You a da too?_ "

"Aye, young one! They shall be your brothers from now on!"

Aragorn smiled, after long time of mourning. _Brothers…_

"Come, penneth! Do you not want to see them?"

Aragorn ran happily to his new father.

THE END


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